Our Time Now
by BrittWitt16
Summary: Alpha? Check. Kanima? Check. Now all Sadie and the pack have to do is survive the summer before junior year. But how do you survive in Beacon Hills when there's not a supernatural threat behind every corner? / Part of The Wild Side Series. A collection of one shots, told from canon characters' POV.
1. Derek

He had expected this. Honestly, he was surprised it had taken this long.

Not that Derek hadn't enjoyed the peace of early summer, if you could call it that. But would there ever be any real peace in Beacon Hills?

The incident at the warehouse had ended as well as he could have hoped. The Argents had backed off without a fight, and Lydia had managed to reform Jackson to a pure wolf. Of course, he would have preferred it if Gerard had been killed, but he knew he was asking a lot. Scott had been incredibly resourceful, poisoning him the way he had. More resourceful than Derek had been, anyway. If it hadn't been for Scott's foresight, Derek would almost certainly have died that night. So if Gerard was still crawling around in the limbo between life and death, that was fine by him. The pack had gotten out alive. That was all that mattered.

He had found Peter easily enough. Even if he hadn't been able to track him by scent, he was bleeding heavily and cursing none-too-quietly under his breath. Derek had immediately punched him unconscious. He knew the way wolves got when they were hurt, especially wolves like Peter. If he was wounded, he might lash out and hurt Sadie in retribution. Derek wasn't going to take that chance.

Since then, he'd tried his best to keep a close eye on him. But it wasn't easy. For one thing, Derek was now spending a lot of time with Jackson, trying to teach him how to control himself. The full moon was steadily approaching, and while Jackson had survived a few as the kanima, he had yet to live through one as a werewolf. There was no telling how he would react with a new set of powers.

Derek had expected Jackson to be flippant. After all, even a freshly bitten werewolf would have a difficult time causing as much damage as Jackson had as the kanima. But Jackson had actually been surprisingly cooperative. He still had a smug façade, and he prided himself in being a colossal pain in the ass. But underneath it all Derek could smell the fear—the desperation to stop himself from hurting anyone else. That fear made Jackson a good student, and if he could hold onto it, Derek was fairly certain it would make him a good wolf.

But most of Derek's time had been spent with Isaac, combing the woods and the preserve for any signs of Erica and Boyd. It had been weeks, and still, no one had heard from them. They tried calling and texting, staking out their family homes. They followed the plan Isaac head set up with them, taking a southern route out of town to look for clues. But any scent had since washed away. Derek had even debated paying Chris Argent a visit, but he knew it would yield no answers. Argent had released the pair of them and ran before any other hunters could realize what had happened or who had a hand in it. He didn't know where Erica and Boyd had headed any more than Derek did.

There was one explanation, of course. But Derek wasn't ready to consider the possibility that Erica and Boyd had gone from being captured by the Argents to being captured by the Alpha Pack. Because if the alphas were involved, it was more than likely that Erica and Boyd weren't just missing. They were dead.

That was not an option. So he elected to ignore it.

All things considered, Derek was keeping busy. But there was always that nagging worry at the back of his mind—a voice telling him that trouble would strike before he could get his life in order. Maybe that was part of the reason he kept coming back to the old house. He wanted to remember what normal felt like, what it had been like to live life with a pack. He and Laura had been alone for so long that it was hard to remember. He wanted to be better Alpha. He _needed_ to be a better Alpha. Maybe that started with coming home.

Today he had gotten lucky. He had been walking around the house when he heard the car coming up the road—a large vehicle, worn breaks, at least fifty thousand miles on the engine. It wasn't hard to place. Sadie had stopped by the train car enough that he knew what her mother's van sounded like.

The car stopped a respectable distance away, presumably what she thought was out of his ear shot. He headed outside to meet her, listening to her light footsteps on the forest floor. She was doing her best to be discreet. If she was trying to sneak up on him, he figured it was only fair he return the favor.

Derek hopped off the porch and moved into the tree line, out of sight from the front door. He watched as Sadie crept into the clearing that used to be his front yard, her head twisting back and forth as she scanned the area for potential threats. Not finding anything that concerned her, she moved up to the porch, taking special care to walk on the edges of the stairs where they would creak less. She'd made it all the way to the front door when Derek called out to her.

"He's not here, you know."

 _BANG!_

Derek was prepared for the bullet she sent his way. He merely stepped out onto the other side of the tree, raising an eyebrow at the gun she held in her hands. "Aren't you supposed to be good with that? You missed me pretty bad."

Sadie didn't find that funny. She lowered the gun, but didn't drop her stance. "Where is he, Derek?"

"I don't know."

"Don't tell me that you don't know, because _I_ know that you're lying."

"Sadie, go home. I told you not to worry about Peter."

"Yeah, and I didn't for a while. I got through my finals like a good girl, and now he needs to go. He's not getting away with everything he did to Lydia."

Derek sighed. He'd known that it was pointless to tell Sadie to drop it. She cared about Lydia like family, and wasn't going to forget what she had gone through. He could smell the familiar fury radiating off her, just as it had been when she'd shot Peter at the warehouse. Honestly, Derek was surprised she'd waited as long as she had to take a second crack at him.

"I made it clear to Peter that he wasn't wanted here," he said, walking forward into the clearing. "I don't know where he is right now."

"And that's it? You told him to beat it and that's supposed to work?"

"Sadie, I want him gone as much as you do, but I'm not going to let you kill him."

"He deserves to die."

She said it without the slightest hesitation. She said it with such conviction that it actually threw him. He'd known she wanted to hurt Peter, but he hadn't expected this.

"Maybe he does. But that's not your decision to make."

"It is if you won't make the call."

"This _is_ my call. I'm the Alpha."

"So what?" she asked, half laughing. "You can't pull rank on me. You're not my Alpha. I'm not even a werewolf."

"But you're still pack."

The sentence hung in the air between them, closing the distance as they stood on opposite ends of the grass. He felt her anger falter, momentarily overcome with surprise and quiet pleasure. After a few moments, she resigned herself. She dropped the gun to her side.

"You're seriously going to let him live? After everything he's done to us? Everything he's done to Lydia, to—…to you?"

She had tried to hide the falter in her voice, the pause where she tripped over an unsaid word. Derek was thankful. He didn't want to hear Sadie say Laura's name, didn't want to be reminded of just how treacherous the decision to keep Peter alive really was. And if Sadie was still considerate enough not to bring up his sister, then it meant she wasn't so far gone. He could still talk her out of her fury.

"Yes," he said simply. "You know, despite what you guys seem to think of me, I don't always consider murder as a first option. Only when there's an imminent threat."

"But Peter is…"

"Dangerous, I know. But I can keep him in check. For now, I need him alive."

"Why?"

And there it was. The simple question he knew she had to ask. And the answer was simple enough. He needed Peter alive because Peter knew things—things about being an Alpha, about the Alpha Pack, about all the other potential threats that were coming their way. Peter was dangerous, but he wasn't the most dangerous player on the board. There were bigger things to worry about.

Derek knew that he should tell Sadie about the Alpha Pack. She had a right to know. There was no way she wasn't going to be implicated, between her relationship with him, her friendship with Isaac, her uncanny ability to wind up in the middle of any danger she could find. She needed to be prepared, and he needed all the help he could get.

But as they stood on the lawn and Derek looked at her, all he could see was a high school girl. Here she was, sixteen years old with a gun in her hand and ready to commit murder if she had to. What sort of life was she being forced to live in Beacon Hills? What sort of life was she being forced to leave behind? At sixteen, she should be trying out for plays, going to the beach with her friends, sneaking out with her boyfriend. That was the life Sadie deserved. Normality.

Maybe she would get dragged into things later. But that didn't mean she shouldn't enjoy the peace while she could.

Derek knew that he should tell Sadie the truth. But instead, he lied.

"Peter's been a werewolf a lot longer than I have. There are a lot of things he knows that I never had the chance to learn. If it wasn't for him, we never would have known what was going on with Jackson."

"He read it from the bestiary. So take the laptop, and _then_ kill him."

"It's about more than the bestiary. Peter was the only one who knew how to save Jackson. He didn't read that in a book."

"And you think he's going to teach you? Out of the kindness of the heart he doesn't have?"

"He doesn't need to teach me for me to learn." Sadie was shaking her head, unimpressed with his argument, but he pressed on. "The past few months have been bad, and I know that. I wanted to be the Alpha, and I haven't done a really good job of it."

"No," she agreed, crossing her arms. "You kind of suck."

"Alright. I kind of suck. But I'm trying to be better. And if I'm going to be a better Alpha, I have to know what I'm doing. And you of all people know that…I don't really know what I'm doing."

Sadie sighed, trying to sound exasperated. But she couldn't hide her bitter smile from him. "You realize this is the one thing Deaton told you not to do, right? You can't trust Peter."

"I don't trust him. But that doesn't mean I can't work with him."

"Derek, there is no working with Peter. He just bides his time until he finds a way to get what he wants. He always has a second agenda."

"And when we find out what it is, we'll stop him. Isn't that why I keep you around?"

"Oh, so it's my responsibility to bail your ass out? Great." Her glare made him grin, which in turn made her glare even harder. She holstered her gun and brandished a vicious finger at him. "When this all goes to shit, I am going to kill him."

"You're not going to kill anyone, Sadie."

"Yes, I am. And you can wolf-out all you want, but that's not gonna stop me."

"You're sixteen. I'm not letting you commit murder. If someone has to put Peter down, it will be me."

"Yeah, no offense, but that didn't really stick last time."

Now it was Derek glaring, and Sadie giving him a small, smug smile.

"You've still got a life outside of all this," he said firmly. "I'm not going to let you throw it away for revenge."

"You're worried about my record?" she asked with a laugh.

"I'm worried about making sure all of this doesn't become your whole life. Just enjoy it while you can. Which reminds me…" Derek paused, pulling a set of keys out of his pocket and tossing them over to her. "Happy belated birthday."

Sadie caught them with instinct more than intention. She stared down at the keys in her hands, and didn't seem to really process what they were for a full five seconds. When it hit, her jaw dropped and her wave of glee hit Derek at full force. "No. No way. No way!"

"Yes way," he mocked, chuckling.

"Derek, this is…this is awesome. Thank you."

"Just take care of her, okay?"

"…What?"

"The Camaro? Take care of it for me."

There was a beat of silence as Sadie stared at him in shock. Then, she hurled the keys back at him as hard as she could. Derek barely managed to catch them he was so surprised.

"Oh, no! No, no, no, no, no!"

"What do you mean, 'no'?" he asked, affronted. "Two seconds ago you were practically squealing."

"Yeah! I thought you were giving me spare keys! So I could—So I could take a joy ride or something!"

"What good is a joy ride gonna do you? You need to be able to drive places—school, work…"

"I _can_ drive to places! How do you think I got here?"

"Your mom's van, which I could hear about a mile off. You can't keep driving your mother's car. What if she needs it?"

"Then someone else will drive me, like always. Lydia and Stiles both have perfectly good cars."

"Yes, and now so do you."

He tossed the keys back to her, but the moment she caught them, she threw them right back. "Derek, I'm not taking the Camaro."

"Why not? I thought you liked it?"

"Of course I like it! It's a fucking Camaro!"

"Okay, then why not?"

"First of all? I don't have the money to pay for that."

"I'm not asking you to pay for it," he said, throwing the keys again. "I'm giving it to you."

"You can't just give me your car!" she yelled, hurling the keys back. "What are you gonna drive?"

"My new car. It's about time I got something a little more functional than a sports car."

"You've got another car?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, I've got another car. And I have enough money. I don't need any of yours."

"Derek, I can't just _take a car._ "

"You can if it's a gift."

"What the hell am I supposed to tell my mom? That I found a Camaro on the side of the road with the keys still in the ignition and I decided to take it? Or that the guy who was on the news a couple months ago for being suspected of murder bumped into me on the street and decided I looked like a needed a new car?"

"It's not a new car. I've had it for a few years now."

"That doesn't change anything, and you know it."

Derek deflated. He hadn't expected Sadie to put up this much of a fight. She was a teenager who needed a car, and he was offering her one without a catch. To him, it was a simple decision. But of course, he should have realized there was more to it for her. She had other people in her life. It was hard to remember what that was like.

He flipped the keys around his finger, crossing the clearing so he could drop them in her hands. "I get it. You don't have to decide anything right now. But I want you to have the car, even if it's just for emergencies. So we'll think of a place to keep it, and I can take you to the DMV so everything's in your name. I'll even take you to get the insurance."

"God, insurance," Sadie groaned. She pushed the keys into his chest again, shaking her head violently. "Derek, I'm not making enough money to pay my own insurance. A teenage girl in a sports car? Can you imagine what that's gonna cost?"

"I'll pay for it. Don't worry about it."

This time when he gave her the keys, she kept them. She stared down at them, flipping them around her finger just as he had. He thought she was coming around to the idea. But then she looked up at him, the suspicion plain on her face.

"Why are you so intent on me taking the car?"

"Because I don't need it, and you do."

"I'm doing fine without it. Why do I need the car? What aren't you telling me?"

Derek could have laughed. Of course she would notice that something was wrong. It was so perfectly Sadie. She wasn't going to just take the charity and roll with it, not when she could smell the hidden intentions like a bloodhound. But he couldn't tell her that he was worried about her. Things were about to get worse, and he didn't want her stranded waiting on a ride from Stiles or Lydia. She needed a way to get around, to get out if she needed. That was his only priority.

Thankfully, Sadie seemed to be making her own conclusions through his silence.

"Is this a bribe?"

"What? No."

She cut her eyes at him. "This is a bribe, isn't it? You think I won't kill Peter just because you gave me a sports car?"

"That's not at all what I was thinking," he said casually. "But if you want to take it that way…"

Sadie shook her head. She chewed on the inside of her cheek for a few seconds, staring at him intently. "You really aren't going to let me shoot him?"

"I need him," Derek said simply. "When I don't, you'll be the first to know."

They stared at each other, but Sadie broke first. She threw her hands up in the air, storming around him. "Fine. Fine, do what you want."

"You're gonna take the car?"

"Yes, I'm gonna take the car. I've got no idea what I'm gonna say to my mom, but if you're not going to let me shoot Peter, then yes, I'm taking the car."

"We'll figure something out," he said earnestly. "If you don't want to tell her the truth, I'll help you come up with a cover story."

"I'm not letting you pay for the insurance, though. I can't just take a car for free. I'm paying you back."

"Any money you give me I'm just gonna give back to you. You've spent enough on me and the pack."

"You're the worst, you know that?"

"Yeah. I've been told."

Sadie rolled her eyes. "You know, instead of buying a new car, you should be looking into buying yourself a new house. You can't keep squatting on bank owned property. And painting the door isn't doing much to make this place homey."

Derek glanced behind him at the shell of his old house. Most of it was still broken and charred, though he'd done his best to clean it up when he was staying with the pack. The windows were covered where they'd been letting in drafts, and he'd brought in some newer furniture. The front door had been painted a bright red, covering the calling card the Alpha Pack had left behind

"You're right," he said, turning back to her. "I'll see what I can do."

"Good. Because I don't want to take a car from a homeless person."

"Go home, Sadie," Derek said in the most disapproving voice he could manage. "Have a normal summer."

"Okay, okay. I'm going. But you're not getting rid of me. Let me know if you need help apartment hunting."

"I will."

She waved at him over her shoulder, jingling the keys as she went. He honed in one the sound, tracking it through the woods. He didn't relax until she got back into the van. The car started, pulled back out onto the road, and then she was gone.

"Well, I think that went fairly well. Thank you for having my back, by the way."

"Shut up."

Derek tensed as Peter strolled out of the house. There was still a small hitch in his stride, a healing limp from Sadie's gunshot wound. His arm was wrapped in a sling as well. The surface of his skin had already sealed, but the bone and muscle underneath was still tender. Derek hoped it was causing him twice as much pain as he complained that it did.

"It's very touching, the relationship you two have. The car might have been a little heavy handed, though."

"Shut up."

"I mean, I understand you're going for the whole big-brother vibe. But you realize they're going to know she's driving your car, right? You're just painting a target on her back."

"The Alpha pack has been here for weeks. She's already got a target on her back. It's not about keeping her hidden. It's about keeping her safe."

"Right. And it's not at all about making up for the fact that you willingly killed her best friend's boyfriend?"

Derek didn't answer. He heard Peter chuckle.

"You know, I'm not sure who's worse at gaining back her trust—you or Stiles."

 _That_ certainly caught his attention.

"Stiles?" Derek turned around, furrowing his brow as he stared at his uncle. "What do you mean?"

"You know, the whole I-turned-off-your-phone-trying-to-protect-you-but-inadvertantly-took-away-your-right-to-choose thing." Peter shrugged, evidently waiting for some acknowledgement from Derek. When he didn't receive one, his eyebrows shot up. "No? Nothing? You really need to keep better tabs on your pack, Derek."

Derek bristled grumpily. "I don't make a habit of eavesdropping on teenagers."

"Hey, I'm not eavesdropping. Occasionally I pass by the house to see if anything interesting is going on, but that's just called being well informed. You miss a lot when you're dead. Like Sadie and Stiles are actually dating now? That's kind of cute. I mean, it's revolting, but it's also kind of cute."

"Why do you care?"

"Oh I don't," Peter said quickly. The porch groaned as he leaned against one of the beams. "At least, not like that. But I do make it my business to know as much about other people as possible."

"So you can manipulate them?"

"So I can make good decisions. Something I take it you're not too familiar with." Derek growled, his red eyes flashing, and Peter held up his hands. "I'm just saying—if you're going to be a good Alpha, you have to know the people that you're dealing with. Example! Where would I be now if I hadn't kept such close tabs on Scott after I bit him?"

"Dead," Derek said wistfully.

"Exactly! I kept an eye on Scott. I wanted him to join me, but of course—teenagers these days. They're so self-involved. So I had to find a way to convince him. I had to figure out what it was that made Scott tick. That led me to Allison, which incidentally led me to Kate, who just so happened to be the exact person I was looking for—the one person who I hated enough to keep breathing in that coma. If I hadn't gotten to know Scott, I never would have known about Sadie, or Lydia, and I wouldn't be standing here with you now."

"I kind of wish you weren't."

Peter pouted. "Fine. Be stubborn. You're very good at it, I commend you. But you can't deny that I'm right. You can go ahead and continue thinking about it as brotherly concern. But not knowing is the first mistake you have to avoid as an Alpha. It might not be my life on the line next time."

Derek didn't argue as Peter hopped off the porch, walking back into town alone. He was glad to be rid of him, but at the same time, there was nothing he wanted more than to follow him. One half of him wanted to keep him close, as he would with any enemy. The other was so distrustful that he didn't want Peter anywhere in his vicinity. He knew that Deaton was right. Sadie was right. Peter's power was in his words, his talent to manipulate others into doing exactly what he wanted while they labored under the illusion of free will. Peter had already fooled Derek once. He wasn't sure if he could trust himself to stop it from happening again.

"I don't need him," Derek said quietly, willing himself to believe that it was true.

Peter chuckled from somewhere deeper in the woods. "Keep telling yourself that, sport."


	2. Lydia

Lydia Martin would not break. And if she did, it wasn't going to be a boy who broke her.

She'd been saying this as a mantra for weeks now, maybe even months. It wasn't going to break her that Jackson had broken up with her. It wasn't going to break her that he wanted back his things. It wasn't going to break her that he'd been turned into a murderous lizard. It wasn't going to break her that he'd died twice in the same day. It wasn't going to break her that after everything they'd gone through, his family was moving to London.

In the beginning, it had been easy to pretend it wasn't happening. They had weeks before Jackson actually left the country, and that was plenty of time for them to be together. The Whittemore's furniture was slowly disappearing as they shipped it overseas, but that was fine. They spent more time in Jackson's bedroom than anywhere else, or out of the house altogether. Then Jackson's parents had left to prepare their new house, but even then it hadn't changed much. Mr. and Mrs. Whittemore had never been home much anyway.

But then Jackson had started packing his things, and the house had been emptied and locked up. He'd shown up on her doorstep with nothing more than a suitcase, just enough for him to last his final week in the states. For seven days, she had him all to herself. And then it was over.

They cruised down the highway as slow as she could manage, Lydia driving with Jackson in the passenger seat. She didn't want him to miss his plane, but at the same time, every inch of her was hoping to put it off just a little longer. If anyone noticed the car's sluggishness, they didn't say. Jackson was staring out the window, and Sadie was fiddling with the cuffs of her sweatshirt in the backseat. She'd insisted on coming along in case Lydia didn't feel up to driving home. Which was ridiculous, of course. She was perfectly fine. It was only an airport, after all.

"Ooh, that reminds me," Sadie said, in response to absolutely nothing. She rummaged around in her bag and pulled out a CD case, which she promptly handed to Lydia. "I made a playlist for the drive."

"No."

Jackson's voice was bored as he plucked the CD from Lydia's hand. He tossed it behind him, where Sadie had to dodge it with a disgruntled look.

"What? Why?"

"Because knowing you, it's just 'Werewolf of London' fifteen times on a loop, and that joke wasn't even funny the first time."

Sadie pouted, but did not argue. The CD disappeared back into her purse, and they continued the drive in silence.

As they began to pass the highway signs directing them to the different terminals, Lydia felt a surge of panic. Up until then, she hadn't allowed herself to really process what was going to happen once she parked the car. They would help Jackson with his bags, maybe stay with him while he checked in, and that that would be it. He would walk through security, and he would never come back. She wouldn't even be able to see him get on the plane.

And now her window of opportunity was closing. They were crossing the parking lot. They were handing over his luggage. They were walking past all the stupid little souvenir shops and heading for security.

"Well, I guess that's everything," said Sadie.

She was still playing with her sweatshirt sleeves—the way she always did when she was uncomfortable. But she put on a brave smile.

"I actually do have something for you—don't look like that, Jackson, I'm being serious."

Sadie reached into her bag again, and this time she pulled out a small, leather-bound book. She handed it to Jackson, who leafed through the first few pages out of curiosity. Lydia could see that it was filled with hand-written notes.

" _A Year With Werewolves_ ," Jackson read, flipping back to the first page. "By Sadie Bennet."

"Geez, Sadie, you wrote him a freaking book?" Lydia peered over his shoulder at the title page, and forced out a weak laugh. "You know most people just go with a keychain."

"It's not a book. Not really anyway. It's just study notes and stuff—things to keep in mind once you're over there. It's everything we've learned since last summer—creatures, mythology, werewolf philosophy..."

"So it's _Werewolves for Dummies_ ," Jackson said coolly.

Sadie pursed her lips, hiding a grudging smile. "Yeah. Just in case London makes you too much of an idiot to remember everything you learned over here."

"I don't think I'm gonna forget any of this any time soon."

There was a heavy moment of silence—one where they all stopped to think about the things they had seen over the last year. It was not a good thought.

Jackson shot a sideways look at Lydia, and cleared his throat.

"Uh…thanks, Sadie. Really. I appreciate it."

"Oh, yeah. No problem."

They looked at each other, fidgeting for a few seconds until Sadie stepped forward to hug him. It was a short, awkward embrace, but they both pulled away smiling.

"Alright. Well, have fun in London. I'm still super, super jealous. And uh…call if you need anything."

"Yeah, I will. Thanks."

"Right. And uh…oh! If you get a card in the mail, or like a phone call from my mom, just roll with it. Even if she says something crazy like uh, 'Are you sure you don't want the car?' Or 'Thank you so much, that was really sweet of you, Jackson.'"

Jackson raised an eyebrow, and Sadie shook her head.

"Really, don't worry about it. Just nod and tell her that it's alright until she hangs up the phone. I've got it under control."

"O-kay. Fine."

"Fine. Great, so uh… Bye, Jackson. I—I hope you have a really great time in England."

"Thanks. Really, Sadie. For everything."

Sadie nodded, and with a tight smile, began to back away. She shared a look with Lydia—cautious to leave her alone, but also pleading for an exit—and then jerked a thumb over her shoulder. She would be there if Lydia needed her, but would give her the privacy of a goodbye.

 _A goodbye._

Lydia smiled fixedly, patting Jackson on the shoulder. "Thank you for playing nice."

"Hey, it wasn't all a lie," he said with a shrug. "You know we were actually friends once."

He looked after Sadie with a bitter smile. Lydia knew that he'd meant it to sound off-handed, but she could also see the sadness in his eyes. They had been friends once—all of them. Lydia, Sadie and Jackson laughing in the car on the way back from the beach, or bickering through a movie they'd rented as they sat on the couch. Maybe they hadn't been best friends, but they'd been happy. Life was simple.

Then there had been all the supernatural garbage—and Jackson's egotistical nonsense. Lydia didn't think Sadie would ever forgive Jackson for dumping her best friend. But she knew at heart it was more than that. It was Jackson's stubbornness that had gotten people hurt. It was his wounded pride that refused to accept help from his friends. It was the walls that he put up that stopped him from seeing straight.

He had done a lot in the last year that could not be undone. Sadie would never voice it in front of Lydia, but they both knew the truth. Sadie didn't know if she could ever truly be friends with Jackson again.

But Jackson wasn't the same person that he had been. He'd made so much progress, worked out so many issues. He wouldn't be a werewolf now if he hadn't. He was a new man.

Maybe that's why he felt like it was time to leave Lydia behind.

Lydia shook that thought away.

"So, what's your plan for the rest of the day? Do you get any time to yourself, or is it tea and crumpets from the moment you get off the plane?"

Jackson rolled his eyes.

"Don't remind me. I'm going straight from Heathrow to Fortnum and Mason to meet my parents for tea. As if I'm gonna forget that we're supposed to be English now."

"Well, maybe they just want to get all the touristy stuff out of the way. Then you can be a true Brit like everyone else."

"Yeah, sure. Like Mom's not gonna drag everyone down to Westminster once a week to take a family picture with Big Ben."

"Maybe you can make a collage for your Christmas card."

He gave her a sharp look, and she smiled. But it only lasted for a moment.

"I better get going," said Jackson, rubbing the back of his neck. "I still gotta get through security and all that."

"Yes. Yeah, of course."

Neither one of them moved.

"You've got everything, right?" Lydia asked.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure."

"I can always ship things to you if you forgot something."

"Nah, I—I think I'm good."

"Okay. Good." Lydia hesitated, then leaned up to peck him on the cheek. "Text me when you land, okay? Just to let me know you made it."

But Jackson was shaking his head. He would not meet her eye.

"Lydia, we talked about this."

"I—I know. I'm sorry."

Of course they had talked about it. They had been talking about it for weeks. But that didn't make it any easier.

When Jackson's parents had received the news that their son was still alive, they had been overjoyed. There had been the ensuing enquiry of course—Jackson's father wasn't going to let the hospital off with telling him his son was dead when he wasn't—but they'd still been happy. So happy, in fact, that they'd decided to reevaluate how they spent their time as a family.

Jackson's resurrection was the Whittemore's second chance. It was time for a clean slate, and that meant getting away from everything and starting fresh.

They'd toyed with the idea of long distance for a while, but there was a difference between being a few towns apart and a whole ocean. They couldn't hop on a plane every few weeks to see each other, even if they could afford it—not with school and full moons and everything in between. Even with phone calls, they would be eight hours apart.

They were fated to become a statistic. And they didn't want to watch themselves fall apart.

So that was the end. The moment Jackson got on that plane, he would be gone forever. No texts, no phone calls, no Christmas cards.

A new start.

But Lydia didn't want a new start. She didn't want a new anything. The past few months—the past _year_ had been a constant battle just to keep what she had. The whole world had already shifted beneath her, and she had stopped just short of crumbling. She had been attacked, she had been friendless, but she had survived. And now life was trying to take everything away from her again.

She knew what everyone said about Jackson. She knew that he was sometimes heartless, that he was manipulative and self-centered and egotistical. She knew that Jackson Whittemore was a broken boy at best.

But not everyone knew the Jackson Whittemore that she did.

Not everyone had seen him open up about his real parents, and how much it hurt that he never got to know them. Not everyone had seen him crumble under the pressure his adoptive parents put on him, the standards that he set for himself. Not everyone knew that he still had nightmares about not having control of his own body, watching himself kill and slaughter innocent people while he did not have the power to stop.

Lydia didn't know how she ever could have thought of walking away from Jackson. He was her first love, her first everything. They'd been through too much together to turn back now. Their connection had literally saved his life—and he had died twice to save hers.

She wasn't supposed to know that, though. Sadie had been dodging questions since the night of the lacrosse final, and Jackson had never brought it up. But Lydia knew. She had seen the self-inflicted wounds when he'd bled out on the lacrosse field. She had seen his tiny nod before Derek and Peter Hale charged at the warehouse. He had voluntarily died to stop himself from hurting anyone—from hurting her.

How was she supposed to let go of someone who loved her enough to die?

"I can't do this."

"Lydia…"

"I know! I know we talked about it, and I know I said I was fine with it, but I'm—I'm not! I'm not fine! I cannot just stand here and lose you all over again!"

"Lyd, this is not the same thing," said Jackson. He was half laughing, but it was a hollow sound. "I'm not dying this time."

"That's what it feels like."

Jackson gave her a pitying look. He dropped his carry on to the ground, and pulled her into his chest. This was where she belonged. Her face buried in his shoulder, with Jackson's arms around her waist. This was the only place that felt safe.

"I don't want you to go," she whispered to his sweatshirt.

He stroked his hand over her hair. "I know. But I can't stay."

Lydia nodded. She was being stupid, and she knew it. This was why they'd talked it out beforehand—made decisions before they could become choked up with goodbyes. It was time for her to be level headed. It was time for her to be real.

"Just lie to me. Please."

Jackson pulled out of the hug, looking down at her for a moment. And then he nodded. He swept a piece of her hair behind her ear, and then cradled her face in his hands.

"Okay. Remember when I tried to break up with you last year? And I said all that stupid shit?"

"Yeah."

"I didn't mean any of it. I was still in love with you. It wasn't over then. It still isn't over."

Lydia bit her lip, halfway between laughing and crying. She closed her eyes in a desperate attempt to keep them from watering.

"If you're a werewolf, I'm a werewolf."

Jackson snorted, and kissed her on the forehead. "God, I'm gonna miss you."

And that, she knew, was true.

He gave her one last kiss on the cheek, and then picked up his bag.

It took all the strength in her body to open her eyes again—to watch him walk away from her into the crowds of holiday travelers. She stood there for an eternity as he made his way through the line, as he walked through the barrier, as he disappeared into the crowd.

Then he was gone.

Lydia Martin would not break. And if she did, it wasn't going to be a boy who broke her.

But still, she thought—as Sadie rushed over to her with a hug, and her knees began to buckle beneath her—that didn't mean she couldn't cry.


	3. Allison

_"And you didn't get his number? Allison!"_

 _"Lydia, lay off. She's only been in France for a few weeks."_

 _"Exactly! Weeks! And I haven't gotten_ _one_ _juicy story about a French boy. How am I supposed to live vicariously through you if you don't go anywhere?"_

"You know, you're so right. I'll do better, Lydia. So sorry."

Allison smiled at her laptop screen, staring at the faces of her two best friends. It was the first time the three of them had gotten the chance to video chat together since she'd left—though why Sadie and Lydia were using different computers when they lived in the same house was a mystery to her.

She wished that she could say that she enjoyed being in France—that every day was an adventure and she was learning to love life again. She and her father had moved to get away from all of their bad memories, and to relearn how to be themselves. But as it turned out, moving to a different country didn't fill the gaping hole she felt in her chest. It didn't change the fact that she had lost her mother. It didn't even change her bad break up.

Her dad had called in a few favors and secured them an apartment right on the edge of Nice. It was a beautiful city, but one Allison had only really seen from the window. Besides one trip to the supermarket, and one to the library, she'd barely left her room.

But she didn't want to tell her friends that. So she let Lydia continue harassing her about French boys.

 _"Lydia does not need to live vicariously through anyone,"_ said Sadie. She rolled her eyes, folding one of the T-shirts from the laundry basket next to her. _"It's not like she hasn't been on any dates this summer."_

 _"Excuse me, I have not been on any dates."_

 _"They're not not dates just because you refuse to call them dates."_

 _"I've been…hanging out with people, yes. But I have not been on any dates."_

"What exactly is the different between hanging out with people and dating them?"

Lydia grinned. _"Hanging out is what you do when you know you're not looking for a commitment."_

"Lydia," Allison laughed, "that's not hanging out. That's hooking up."

This difference didn't seem to bother Lydia though, as she simply waved her hand at the semantics.

Sadie shook her head as she walked a stack of shirts to her dresser. _"Allison, you know she's already gotten three phone numbers this week? Just this week!"_

 _"Four,"_ Lydia said with a shrug. _"I told you that you should have come to the mall with me."_

"No, Sadie doesn't _need_ phone numbers," Allison said with a smirk. "She's got a _boyfriend._ "

Lydia gasped comically, while Sadie threw a pair of shorts at her laptop screen.

 _"Alright, alright, I get it. I'm the weird taken one now."_

 _"Seriously,"_ Lydia sighed. _"Sadie has a boyfriend, and I do not. It's like I'm in the Twilight Zone."_

"What do you mean? Sadie was still dating Stiles when you'd broken up with…"

 _"Oh come on!"_ Sadie's voice was loud as she cut Allison off. _"It's not that weird. Besides, you're always the one pushing me to spend more time with him. You're not allowed to turn around and tell me I'm being a boring relationship girl when I get yelled at every night I stay home."_

 _"Well I wouldn't have to yell at you if you would actually do something with your boyfriend."_

 _"I'll do things with my boyfriend in my own time, thank you."_

Allison raised an eyebrow as Lydia threw her hands in the air. "Wait, Lydia. When she says 'do things in her own time' does that mean…?"

 _"Why yes, Ally. It means that even though Sadie's got a boyfriend, she's the one who seems to be living vicariously through other people."_

 _"No, I am not,"_ said Sadie firmly. _"I'm not pushing you guys out the door and into relationships or hook ups or anything. I'm just happy where I am right now, thank you. Can we change the subject?"_

 _"No. Allison, do you know how long Sadie and Stiles have been dating?"_

"Um, I don't know. What is it now? Like, four months?"

 _"Yes. It's exactly like four months. And apparently they have not even broached the subject of having sex."_

 _"You make it sound like this huge thing! I'm telling you, it just hasn't come up!"_

 _"Sadie, I've met your boyfriend. Trust me, it has come up."_

Allison did her best not to giggle as Sadie's face screwed up in disgust.

"Lydia, I don't think it's that bad. I mean, Scott and I didn't have sex at first either. Maybe they just don't want to rush into it."

Sadie brandished a hand at the screen. _"Thank you, Allison!"_

Lydia waved them off. _"You'd still had sex before four months. Sadie's just being a nervous prude."_

 _"I am not! Look I just… We're trying to make things different now. Everyone's been so caught up in the kanima stuff that I told Stiles I kind of wanted to start from scratch. So instead of it being like we've dated four months, it's sort of like we've only been dating one."_

"So you guys are just starting over?" Allison asked sadly. "As if nothing ever happened between you guys?"

 _"You can't erase that kind of history,"_ said Lydia, shaking her head.

 _"No, we're not trying to erase anything. It's more like…I don't know. Rebuilding, I guess."_

Lydia snorted at this, and leaned back in her chair. _"Well yeah, after that phone stunt he pulled I'm not surprised."_

"Phone stunt? What phone stunt?"

To Allison's surprise, both Sadie and Lydia froze. She watched as they each glanced at their computer screens, gauging the other's reactions. It was Lydia who spoke first.

 _"Oh, it's—it's nothing. I guess we didn't get a chance to tell you before you went all European Vacation."_

She was smiling, but Allison could tell she was nervous. Sadie, on the other hand, wasn't even looking at the camera. She'd returned to folding her laundry with unique focus and concentration.

"Tell me what?" Allison asked suspiciously.

Lydia glanced at the corner of the screen, where Sadie gave a small shrug.

 _"Um… Well the night of the lacrosse finals, right before we all headed over to the warehouse, Sadie was over at Stiles's place. And I was calling her and calling her and she wouldn't pick up. And obviously I knew she wasn't having sex with him, which would have been a decent excuse but, uh… I went over there to find her, and I realized that she'd fallen asleep, and she didn't wake up because Stiles had turned her phone off."_

"Oh my God, really?" Allison gaped at her screen. "Why would he do that? Especially with everything that was going on?"

 _"Well, that's exactly why he did it. There was too much going on, and he said he didn't want her getting involved."_

"It's a little late for that, I think," said Allison. "God, that's so stupid."

 _"It wasn't stupid."_

Sadie's voice was surprisingly even as she spoke. She still wasn't looking at her laptop.

"Yeah, but Sadie…"

 _"It was wrong, and I'm still mad at him, but it wasn't stupid. He didn't want me to get hurt, because he knows I can't heal. Even I forget that sometimes."_

"I know, but it's not like you can't take care of yourself," Allison argued. "I can understand being worried, but that's just…"

 _"Paranoid?"_

Allison stopped herself. She shook her head.

"No. I guess I was just gonna say it was…pretty cautious of him."

Sadie nodded, still not looking at the screen. _"Well he'd also just gotten the shit beat out of him by a pack of hunters, so yeah. I guess he was being cautious."_

It felt as though the breath had been sucked out of her chest.

Allison stared at her laptop, watching as Sadie continued to fold her laundry, as Lydia suddenly became very interested in straightening the books on her desk.

"Sadie, I'm so sorry about what happened to Stiles. But I swear, I didn't know anything about that. All Gerard told me was that I should go after Derek's pack, and he would try and convince Scott to talk. If I'd known he was going to go after Stiles… I wouldn't have let that happen. You have to know that."

Sadie sighed, carding her hands through her hair and then resting them on her hips. She stared down into her laundry basket and nodded sullenly.

 _"Yeah. Yeah, I know, Ally."_

But something in her voice said that she wasn't quite ready to believe her.

Allison leaned back in her chair as Lydia called for a subject change, rushing into a rant about how she was beginning to look into colleges who might accept her additional credits towards a degree. Sadie talked about all of Lydia's theoretical work, and Allison laughed as she recounted how it had gotten her into trouble with the math department. And on the surface, it was all normal.

At the same time, Allison knew it wasn't.

She hadn't found out about what happened to Stiles until it was too late. Scott had filled her in on all the details her family hadn't wanted her to know—how the hunters had grabbed Stiles after the championship game, how Sadie had completely broken down, how Gerard had meant it as a message to them. Tell him where Derek was, or his friends would die.

Scott had promised that he believed in her the whole time, and Allison trusted him. His honesty and his loyalty were two of the things that made it so hard to let him go. But that loyalty also tied him to Sadie. It was only after begging repeatedly that he'd admitted what she'd said about the situation.

 _"You heard her threaten to murder me if I got in her way. I'm honestly not sure I'd put anything past her right now."_

It'd been naïve of her to think that they could just leave that in the past. Allison didn't like thinking about that dark part of herself—or just how dark she'd gotten. But it still haunted her at night. She'd shot Boyd. She'd shot Erica. She'd stabbed Isaac until he didn't even have the strength to stand. And she'd shoved her best friend into a wall, held an arrow to her throat, and then threatened to kill her.

Allison knew, deep down, that she didn't deserve anyone's forgiveness. She certainly didn't deserve it this quickly. How could she blame Sadie for thinking she'd tortured Stiles when she'd tortured so many other people in her life?

She couldn't. But it didn't make her feel any less sick with guilt.

No one brought up the previous school year for the rest of the conversation. Lydia kept them focused on the present and the future—what Allison was doing in France, what Sadie was doing at work, when they would all be together again. Occasionally, Lydia would slip in another remark about Sadie's virginity, and Sadie would balk and squawk like a bird. Allison always came to her defense. It was the least she could do, amusing as she found Lydia's badgering.

They were halfway through a conversation about what movies were coming out when Sadie finished folding her last T-shirt. She stopped and stared down into her laundry basket, so still that Allison actually thought her feed had frozen. But then Sadie cleared her throat.

 _"Hey Lydia, did you throw any of your things in with my laundry?"_

 _"Hm, no. Why do you ask?"_

Sadie fished out a pair of underwear, red and lacy, and held them at arms' length. _"Because I've never seen these before, and I'm really hoping they're not my mom's."_

Allison giggled, and Lydia beamed.

 _"Oh no! I got those for you!"_

 _"All of it?"_ Sadie asked, peering back down into the laundry basket. _"Why…Why would you do that?"_

 _"Well you're going to need something when you and Stiles decide to seal the deal. I know we got you some nice bras, but sex is a totally different ball game. I decided you needed a few matching sets for the occasion."_

 _"Yeah, that's great. Thanks a bunch. What did you do with the rest of my underwear?"_

 _"I have no idea what you're talking about."_

Sadie glared at the laptop screen. She picked up the basket of laundry and flipped it upside down, dumping the contents onto her bed. Out fell several items of lace, all in different colors—blacks and reds and purples and blues, but none of them seeming very substantial.

If Sadie's face hadn't been funny enough, the reveal had done the ticket.

Allison burst out laughing, and Lydia just shrugged.

 _"Oh. Well that's unfortunate."_

 _"Lydia, what the hell did you do with my real underwear?"_

 _"Excuse me, that is all very real underwear. And you'll be wearing it until I see some results."_

 _"This—This is crazy, Lydia! I'm not wearing all of this stuff every day! Give me back my normal clothes or I swear to God…!"_

 _"Don't be so dramatic! It's not like I went and burned it or anything. I'm completely reasonable. You can have your period panties back when you've reached that point of your cycle."_

Sadie let out a battle cry and went sprinting off of the screen, just as Lydia went running to barricade her door. But Sadie was too quick. She burst into the room and wrestled Lydia onto the bed. From what Allison could see, it looked like she was attempting to strangle Lydia with the red thong.

Allison was still laughing, so hard that it was hard for her to sit upright. It was a nice feeling, being able to laugh loudly and free. She wasn't sure she could remember the last time she had. It hadn't been for weeks, surely. Not since before her mother had died.

She knew earning her friends back wasn't going to be easy. There was no simply way to put the past behind them and ignore everything that had happened. But maybe Sadie was right. Maybe all of them had to start from scratch, to rebuild their trust in each other. If they started simple, and eased back into things, maybe it wouldn't be as difficult as it seemed.

Whatever it took—Allison thought as she watched Sadie and Lydia cackling on her screen—it would be worth it.


End file.
